Nothing Else To Do
by qsmadness007
Summary: Some of the team are bored.


"Nothing Else to Do."  
By ohfan007  
  
Author's notes, and disclaimer: This is my attempt at a short, humour piece. The characters do not belong to me, and I will return them in pretty much the sam condition, when I am finished.  
  
VCTF Command Center  
April 2, 2001 3pm  
  
John Grant, avoiding some paperwork, which he needs to catch up on, walks into the command center, to find George Fraley hunched over the table, scrawling something on a pad. He watches as George straightens a bit, picks up a set of dice next to the pad and rolls them. George writes something on the pad again.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, don't you have nothing else to do?" John snaps at his friend.  
  
"No. " George tosses the dice again.  
  
"Look, I am not going to have you doing that like you were with those I-ching things!"  
  
"Those were coins, and this is different,that was 'spiritual,' this is a crap contest." George writes the number on the dice down.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know the dice game where..." He tosses them again, as John cuts him off.  
  
"I know what it is, how can you be having a contest though, who is it with?" John glares down at his friend, like he is an idiot, since no one but he and George are in the room.  
  
"It's with Richard. We are seeing who can roll eleven the most, we are going to compare our rolls tonight." George says, scrawling the number, and tossing the dice again.  
  
John puts his hand over the dice, before George can see what they are. "That's the most stupid thing I ever heard of."  
  
"It is not, your just mad because I am relieving my boredom, and you still have week old paper work to finish." George tries to push John's hand off the dice.  
  
"I am not, its annoying." John puts his other hand on top of George's hand, holding it hard against the table. George struggles to pull it out.  
  
"Bailey said I could, for awhile, as we haven't had a case in three days, and I have no more paperwork, as long as I didn't do it more than an hour, its only been ten minutes." He pulls his hand out harshly from under John's, rubs it slightly, and then pulls John's hand off the dice, and palms them.  
  
"He did not, Bailey would not let you waste tax payers money on something silly."  
  
"It's not silly, and it's research." He says, and tosses the dice, on the oppposite side of his computer away from John. "You're just jealous, you have paperwork, and can't do this kind of 'research.' "  
  
"You're lying, I am not jealous, and there is no way Bailey gave you permission, and how is it research?"  
  
"It helps me get inside the mind of a gambler." George gives John, a smug smile, and writes the number down. He tosses the dice again.  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"Why don't you leave me alone, and go do the paperwork you are behind on." Toss  
  
"I don't want to.Could you please stop that." scribble  
  
"Why, And you think the taxpayers are paying your salary so you can avoid work?" toss  
  
"It's annoying!Don't you have paperwork to do?" John raises an eyebrow, and watches George write down an 'eleven' "And that's nine, Georgie."John walks around to the side where George is tossing the dice.  
  
"It is not annoying, and I told you I finished it, and five plus six does not equal nine, JOHN!" George tosses it again.John claps his hand over it, and picks them off the table. He puts them in his pocket.  
  
"Good, it was giving me a headache."  
  
"That's not fair, those are my dice, you have no right." George protests.  
  
John walks out, "So, sue me."   
  
"Maybe I will!" George calls, and grumbles, wondering what else he could do on the last two hours of his shift. He frowns.  
  
---  
"What are you doing?" Samantha asks, coming up behind John hunched over at his desk.  
  
"Trying to see how many elevens I can roll." He tosses the dice again.  
  
"You really don't want to do that paperwork, do you?"  
  
"Yeah, eleven again."   
  
"That's only six, the other one landed on its side, it doesn't count."  
  
FIN 


End file.
